From Eden
by embracetheweird16
Summary: "Babe, there's something lonesome about you. Something so wholesome about you-get closer to me."


_Prompt: Christmas Eve & From Eden by Hozier_

_Words: 1370_

_Author's Note: This is my first Supernatural fanfiction so please, do be kind. Leave a review, follow or favorite!_

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><p><em>There's something tragic about you.<em>

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><p>He closed his eyes and let his head fall back to the leather seat of his car. He was tired. Aged before his time like most men in his line of work, tonight he had killed another monster-saved another group of people who were probably going to remember that one night of horror for the rest of their lives. He however, he'd have a lifetime of it. From a young age he hadn't much of a chance to begin with after the crisp body of his mother was cremated. John Winchester had signed away any chance his sons could have at a normal life. Sometimes he resented his father. Lately more so than often, as the season came around and he saw so many happy families. The people he rescued had a chance to go home and be normal (albeit somewhat traumatized and in need of professional psychological help) whereas he had to pack up, look for another case and find a dirty old motel room to fall asleep in. Alone, since his baby brother was off at Stanford studying law getting himself a future; a chance that didn't involve hunting creatures and killing beasts-a <em>normal<em> life.

Dean opened his hazel eyes, turned the key of his impala drove off to his next destination.

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><p><em>There's something lonesome about you.<em>

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><p>He tried to call his father. For reasons that are beyond him, to perhaps just hear his voice-the gruff words of his only living parent as compared to staying in the motel room alone with the cable television and a bottle of whiskey to keep him company. The phone rang out of course, leaving nothing but voicemail which he just hung up on. He didn't want to seem like a desperate little boy in need of his father's comfort. Granted he did need to hear his father. It just wouldn't look right. His father's loyal solider calling back for some silly childish need to hear his speak; Dean shook his head and turned the television on and took a big swing of the alcohol. Hissing at the burn in his throat, Dean licked his lips and stared forward.<p>

He dialled another number on his phone, tapping away the old familiar number of his brother.

_This number is no longer in service or it has been discon-_

He hung up on the phone again.

It would appear his only living relatives didn't want to hear from him (or really anyone for that matter). The twenty-four year old kicked off his shoes and shed his shirt before turning off his lamp; turning to his side Dean let a dreamless sleep come over him.

He'd manage being alone like he always did and most likely always will.

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><p><em>There's something so wholesome about you.<em>

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><p>It turns out that there truly was no rest for the wicked.<p>

Dean Winchester knows this because before he can depart from his motel he finds a demon about to murder some poor girl-she's about sixteen, buxom but young. The demon turns out possessed her own father and had killed her entire family but she managed to escape but naturally the demon found her.

And him too.

Dean whispers softly at first to get its attention. "_Christo_."

The demon twists his head around wearing a sneer and eyes Dean with charcoal eyes, smirking he recites the incantation he's known like the back of his hand since he was eight and watches as the black smoke flows out of its mouth. The vessel falls to the ground with a thud and cough up blood.

Jeremy Haynes is dead and his daughter-the young girl Dean saved is grinning because the monster that killed her family is dead. But she sheds tears because her last family member is bleeding out on the ground and neither of them can save him.

Her name is Cassidy but she likes to be called Cass.

Dean discovers over a few mornings of searching for family for her that she's as alone as he is and almost as chatty. She likes classic rock as well. He thinks she just might be the cure to his loneliness-in a none pervy paedophile way of course.

Sort of like a puppy.

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><p><em>There's something so precious about this.<em>

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><p>Despite seeing her entire family murdered she's horribly innocent. And from what he knows so far of the business, that's never a good thing. Innocence in a world of monsters is deadly. But it's all the same refreshing and Dean wants to absorb as much of it as possible before it ends; it's within him to think negatively and to know that happiness in his case can never last long. So he enjoys her endless chatter and need for chocolate. He even endures her late night crying and stays up to comfort her.<p>

She weeps and that makes her innocent.

The guilty, damaged and tainted souls he encounter daily are known to compact their feelings and keep them bottled up and let them out on some nameless monstrosity. He's seen his father do it on countless hunts.

The next morning Cas is usually better-happier even.

"I think we should get a tree." She tells him with her hands on her hips and a smile so wide he can see her deep dimples.

Dean looks up from the case files of a new lead on a vengeful spirit he's hunting in town. He shakes his head and smirks, drinking down the rest of his beer. "Sure." Dean responds because he honestly can't remember the last time he had a tree.

A week before the holiday, he stumbles in with a bleeding wound on his left side and smells of gasoline and salt. His head hurts, his lips are dry aching for a taste of the cold beer he has tucked away in the mini-fridge. Flicking on the motel light he finds Cas sitting up on her bed holding the handgun he gave her straight at him, clearly dishevelled and soft brown eyes red.

He knows that she's stayed too long and he knows that she's not cut out for this and he knows she's scared and he's little comfort.

So after he's been mended and sewed up, and they've slept and eaten an unhealthy breakfast of leftover Chinese food; he makes her pack her bag and drives to South Dakota.

The last few days were precious and he enjoyed them-while they lasted. He enjoyed happiness.

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><p><em>No tired sighs<em>

_No rolling eyes_

_No vacant stares_

_No time for me._

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><p>She hugged him before he shifted her off to Bobby; a man who's had experience raising orphan children. He suddenly feels empty as he sees her bob of dark curls and golden skin move off into the house, Bobby isn't too happy about it. He grumbles and mumbles but he lets her stay.<p>

Dean's grateful for it and drives off.

Only this time he actually goes where he intended to in the first place.

At first glance he seems like a creepy stalker lurking in the dark shadow of the popular college bar. He doesn't care; instead he hikes up his leather collar and watches. And waits. Then after an hour wait he sees who he came for. The tall lean male walks out of the bar laughing and smiling-obviously drunk yet obviously happy. Dean starts to walk but sees a lithe blonde follow after him, slinging her arm around his waist.

His brother is happy and in love.

And Dean turns around and walks away because he doesn't want to ruin it; his brother seemed well off without him.

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><p><em>Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago.<em>

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><p>He opens the door of Bobby's with his head low and smelling high of alcohol from the bar two miles up that he raced down to the house. He has his duffel bag in one hand and in the other he has the tip of a short Charlie Brown-ish Christmas tree. Making more noise than he planned he decides the drop the bag at the door and lift the tree as quietly as possible to the living room.<p>

The light turns on and he stops mid-motion.

Standing there is a sleepy but smiling Cas with a shovel in her hand; perhaps thinking yet again he was some intruder.

Dean smiles at her. "Merry Christmas, Cas."

She smiles too because she got her tree.


End file.
